


Dreams are Realities in Waiting

by theimpossibleimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Could Really Take Place Whenever, Cute drunks, Dean is like super super in love, Denial, Djinnverse (Supernatural), Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Love Proclimation, M/M, No Canon Plot, Oblivious Idjits, One Shot, Pining/Longing, Present giving, Rollercoaster of Emotions, Sam Knows, Season 9, Self-Doubt, Short Story, Sleepy Cuddles, Suspenders Kink, Swearing, Unrequited Love, djinn, shopping together, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6089275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimpossibleimpala/pseuds/theimpossibleimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is caught by a djinn, and after being rescued he realises what his 'happy place' have been in the dream world he didn't have a chance to visit. </p><p>He would have wished that Cas loved him back. </p><p>Except his brother and that damned fallen angel saved him before any of those dreams could come true – so he might just have to make them real himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They are but mere specks in all of time and creation."

DEAN FALLS into Cas’s arms with a groan, a hiss escaping his lips as the last of the wires are ripped out of his veins. The djinn had been draining him of blood for the past hour, but not quite long enough for Dean to be subdued by the sickly sweet venom the creature injects it's victims with. It leaves him dizzy all the same, and unable to stand. Sam is untying the other victims, catching their limp bodies and then settling them against the wall to wake up peacefully. There's two people he holds onto – a young woman, and an even younger boy. They are deathly pale, dangerously close to death.

Dean feels the instinct to leap into action rise up in his chest. He head urges him to help carry the hurt, help those who are barely holding on, and ensure everyone's at least kind of okay. But who would be after an experience like this? Another, larger, part of him begs to just rest here a moment longer. He leans into Castiel, who has a hand on his back and the other by his ear and temple.

“Dean,” Cas murmurs softly, pulling back and surveying him. “Are you alright?”

Dean nods weakly, smushing his face back into Cas’ shoulder and breathing in the angel’s warm, familiar scent.

He lets himself have this. This moment of being held and cared for, this moment of vulnerability and need; this moment of being held by Cas.

He knows what his wish would have been had the djinn’s poison started working. What his dream is. What he desires above all else. What he greeds, and lusts, and longs for…

He wants Castiel to love him back.

He knows it's impossible. He knows angels don't _feel_  like that. He knows it's an impossible possibility that he's going to cling to as long as Cas is around, and probably long after Cas leaves the Winchester brothers behind. They are but mere specks in all of time and creation. Dean is but one electron in one atom of one molecule of one water droplet in an ocean of thirty-four septillion, five hundred sextillion droplets, on a single planet in one solar system of one galaxy in the entire, infinite universe. Dean is  nothing compared to everything that has been, will be, could be, or is.

And if that's not an argument for why this is impossible, then he's not sure what is.

Sam calls out, breaks the angel and the hunter apart, and Dean has to lumber through the abandoned warehouse on his own as Cas assists with waking and calming the people they saved. He throws himself in the shotgun seat of the impala, still groggy as hell, and exhausted to the bone. He zones out a bit, staring at the reflection of the car in the sideview mirror and remembering that scene from Jurrassic Park where the T-Rex shows up. He rubs at his face, barely registering when the sirens start in the distance, and Sam hops in to drive the car. 

Cas is in the backseat, and Dean finds he can watch him in the rear-view mirror. So he does. He studies Cas's blue eyes, pale complexion, and black hair that has a few grey strands in it. He smiles at the stubble on his cheekbones and chin; Cas is newly human, and hasn't quite mastered the use of a razor. He frowns only slightly at the lack of a trenchcoat and backwards tie, but it also kind of makes him chuckle to see Cas in a cozy hoody and jeans. 

They drive through Kansas; open fields flattened and brown, harvest is over. Dead leaves and the occasional tumble weed litter the streets, not a cloud in the sky. Late autumn is a peaceful time. Full of weddings and food and holidays. People biting their tongues as they hold back from bellowing Christmas songs two months too early. It's a time for rushing to complete the year's resolutions and bracing yourself for any unexpected changes. It's a time to strap the chains onto your tires and hope the weather won't hold you hostage in the coming weeks. It's a time for endings. 

"Are you okay, Dean?" Sam asks, jolting Dean out of his stupor. "You seem a little out of it."

"Well, yeah, I'm out of it," Dean retorts. "I just got leeched at by tattoo god, what do you expect?"

Sam ignores the rude commentary, continuing, "Did you dream about anything? Like that time before? With mom?"

Dean shakes his head, stopping almost immediately when it makes him want to vomit. His wrists ache from being tied in rough rope and his neck is cramped from lolling forward for too long. 

"No. I don't think I was under the spell long enough for anything to happen. That, or I just don't remember it."

Sam gives him a skeptical look, "You'd tell me if you had, right?"

"Yeah, Sammy. Chill out. I ain't lying to ya."

A deep voice talks from the backseat, "I'm sorry, Dean. I shouldn't have let you go out alone."

Dean saddens at once, he can't help it. Now everytime he see it hears or thinks about Cas he desperately wants to be trapped in that djinn-universe and find out what it would be like to kiss Cas. To hold him. To love, and be loved. 

"Hey, now," Dean turns in his seat to face Cas, stretching a reassuring hand over and resting it on their knee. "Hey. You were right though, I had no evidence suggesting any sort of real case. It was my bad for not being more prepared. Don't worry about it, okay?"

Cas bites his lip as if to say that's the last thing he's going to do – and the mannerism is human and so normal that it fills Dean with something like admiration. Or adoration. When he shifts back into his seat to peer out the windowshield, he pretends not to notice the confused looks Sam sends his way. 

"I'm gonna catch some shut-eye before we get home," Dean announces. He curls up in himself, legs crossed, arm bent against the windowsill and his cheek laying on it. He hopes to dream of Cas and everything they can never be. 

—

The next few days at the bunker are hard on Dean. His emotional wounds aren't healing, and he doesn't know what to do about it. It's Saturday, and for most people it would be 'the weekend', but since he doesn't have a 'real job', his weekend is whenever the hell he wants it to be. And right now he wants it. 

Sam can tell something is up, and Dean's thankful they haven't had to talk about it yet. Whether that means Sam knows what it is, or is trying to figure it out – scares Dean. If his brother uncovers the truth of Dean's feeling towards their mutual angel-friend, what will he say? It's not as if the situation can be helped or fixed, the only thing Dean can do is keep his distance from Cas. 

In theory that's a good plan. Only... trying  _not_ to think about something never works out the intended way, and trying to avoid thinking about  _someone –_ is even harder. He can't go two seconds without a kind, weathered face flashing before his eyelids, or the sound of a gravelly voice in his ears. He is so lost in loving Castiel that all he can do is lay around and watch movies to keep himself distracted. He's falling apart so fast the wind doesn't even have time to blow away the pieces. 

The film he's watching is some cheesy-ass rom-com about a couple in a long distance relationship, each secretly having an online affair with another person. Only, the people their each cheating on with, is  _each other._ They just don't know it. They say lines so ridiculous and cliché Dean wonders how it was ever made, and it's not until the end when the guy is crying and telling the girl about his affair, that Dean realises he's not alone.  

He jumps, pausing the movie and whipping his head around.

"Jesus Christ, Cas! How long have you been there!?"

Castiel shrugs, nonchalant.

"A while."

Dean gapes, not sure how to handle this. He clears his throat, looking back at the tv screen for a distraction. 

"Well, um," He swallows nervously. "I guess you can come watch with me. It's almost over, but..."

He trails off, his stomach churning unpleasantly with anxiety. 

"I think that would be nice."

Cas is in long, flannel pajama pants and a loose, cotton v-neck. The pants are tight in all the right places and fall gently around his socked feet. Cas looks cozy as hell and Dean is finding it hard to breathe as the angel sits down less than six inches away. The footrest is popped out, and Castiel sets his feet up on it near Dean's. The hunter blinks a couple times, trying to get his bearings, then manages a huffed –

"You want some of this blanket?"

"Yes, please. It's colder down here than in the rest of the house."

"Well, then –" Dean lifts the left side of blanket up, gesturing for Cas to scoot over and get warm. And then Cas is; his side is touching Dean, their thighs and feet brushing slightly. The proximity in necessary to have them both fit, so it's not like Dean meant for this to happen. 

His breath is hitching in his throat, his left side vibrating from the contact with Castiel. He hits play on the movie, pleading for some relief. The rapid beating of his heart is alarming at best, and after a few minutes of fake screen-crying it's cured a little bit. And then a new issue comes into play, one that grants Dean an interesting though terrifying opportunity.

The two's arms that rest between their bodies are awkwardly placed So as not to touch or disrupt their personal space. It's very uncomfortable, however, and requires more focus than should really be needed when drowning out the world with crap films. Dean feels sly as a freakin' fox when he moves his arm up behind the headrest of the couch, sliding it idly behind Cas's head. It's such a teenage cliché – but it's perfect and he has to do it. Castiel's gaze turns to him for only a beat, before returning to the screen. Dean nearly yanks his arm away he's so shocked when Cas leans back against Dean's forearm, resting there. The hunter's skin prickles, and he drops his arm so it hangs loosely around the angel's shoulders.

It's terribly awkward, and his movements are painstakingly slow, but he does that and waits for the next sign; for Cas to do something. He's not sure what's happening – but if things continue with the way they're going, he'll either melt into a puddle or explode. There's a tencity in the room that's he swears crackles every so often with electricity. He can't be the only who feels it, but Cas seems completely unnerved by any of this. Of course, to Cas this all means nothing. To Cas, their just friends – so why's a hug or cuddle really matter that much? To Cas this isn't the single most painful moment of his life because he's not allowed to kiss or hold or tell Dean he loves him. Because right now, that's all Dean wants to do to Castiel. 

A replay of every intimate or meaningful moment in their relationship is buzzing through his head, hurting worse than any injury he could ever have. The worst wounds are the ones on the inside. He's in love with his best friend, and his best friend doesn't love him back.

A wimper squeaks past Dean's lips without permission, the sound striking the silence between the duo with the force of a sledgehammer. The movie drifts even further into the background as Cas turns his head to stare Dean full-on. They are so damn close and  Dean's arm is around the other's shoulders and  _holy fucking hell he wants to kiss Cas._

It would be so easy, mere inches seperate their faces. And sure Cas is a little shorter, but oh god that would be the best part. Dean could kiss into him hard and deep and hold and caress him... He wants to, but he can't. Because Cas doesn't like him like that. 

"Are you okay?" Cas checks, Dean practically forgetting the sound he made earlier in the midst of that gentle blue gaze.

"Yeah," He assures breathily, "Yeah, I'm fine."

He thinks people have been asking him that a lot lately, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it because Cas is suddenly fucking  _snuggling up against him,_ resting his head right in the crook of Dean's shoulder – where it meets his torso – forcing Dean's arm to wrap more tightly around Cas, down behind his back with his hand curling around their waist. 

The position is so couple-y and cuddly that he could puke from the fluff of it, but somehow he doesn't because right now he's fucking cuddling with an ex-Angel of the Lord on a couch in the dark, a rom-com on the tv – and frankly he'd rather have this than anything else. Just this moment between the two of them, even if his feelings are unrequited.

Castiel falls asleep on him, making him panic momentarily until he remembers that Cas is human now, and humans need sleep. 

He is so warm and soft and close Dean thinks this must be a miracle, it's like maybe God is looking out for him in some, small – but equally gigantic – way. He is safe here, on the sofa, but also he is the  protector. He is holding Cas. 

The credits ended long ago, and he since shut off the tv and dvd box; leaving him to just lay here and contemplate what to do. Cas and him grew closer as the movie came to a close; the angel wrapping his own arms around Dean, and laying his head more on the Winchester's stomach. Dean's fingers fumble with their hair now – twisting a particularly long strand around his pinky and then letting it go. It's all by feel, by touch, it's too dark to see what's going on. He's growing drowsier by the second, and his head has already dropped to rest sideways on top of Cas's. He thinks this is crossing some sort of line – like Cas will wake up and flip out because they're too close. 

But Dean can't help himself, the desire in his gut and the tug in in his heart is too much to resist. He loves Cas, and he will have the angel in anyway he can. 

—

Sam trudges through the theatre at half past 1 in the morning, flicking on a dim lamp as he passes through so he doesn't trip on anything.

It doesn't help, because he does end up tripping. Only the thing that he trips on is a  _sight,_ not an object. 

Dean is sleeping on the couch, which wouldn't be that big a deal, except he's  _sleeping with Cas._ Sam's first thought is to say or do something to wake them up, but after seeing Dean unconsciously squeeze Cas a little tighter, a little closer, he's hit with the reality of the scene. They are cuddling on the couch, entangled limbs and all. Dean is resting and Cas is being cared for. Amazing. Amazing, is what this is. 

Sam knows.  _Of course,_ he knows. It's plain as day; as easy to see as the nose on Dean's face. 

Dean has been pining after Castiel for what feels like years. Always glancing at the angel when he thought they weren't looking. It had gotten even worse once Cas turned human, moved into the bunker. The bunker, as large as it is, has never been quite big enough to keep their tension watered down. Emerging at the dinner table through lengthy stares, or after dinner when the two did the dishes together. Painfully obvious as it is, neither of them has ever said word – never even visibly  _hinted,_ that maybe their feelings were not quite platonic. 

It was maddening to watch. All the whispers, the double-meaning things they'd say. And at last – _at last –_ they were doing something about it. 

Sam shuts back off the lamp, sneaking behind the couch and across to the corridor that leads to his room. He can't wait to hold what he saw over Dean's head in the morning. No way is he letting this slide. 

—

Dean wakes up cold and alone. His heart plummets, as he remembers the warmth of Cas the night before.  To think Cas would stick around – or that Cas would ever want to do that again – is ridiculous, Dean knows that anything with the angel is unrealistic, that it won't ever happen, yet he'll let himself enjoy the moments he does have with him. 

One of these days Cas is going to figure it out. He'll sneer at Dean in disgust, tell Dean that it's wrong and idiotic. Castiel will leave, he'll turn his back on the Winchesters and on humanity because of one ape who thought loving an angel was an okay thing. Castiel will laugh at him, and he'll take back everything he's ever done. Cas will regret turning on Heaven, regret helping them; worst of all, Castiel will wish Dean was still burning in the flames of hell. 

And that's why Cas can never know. Not ever. If he loses Cas, he'll beg to be thrown back down there. 

Dean steps into the kitchen to see a woman standing there. She's pale, brunette, and staring. He halts in his tracks, shocked at the sight of someone new in the bunker. 

"Who the hell are you?" He demands at last. Sleepiness leaves his body as quickly as a sneeze might. 

" _I need your help_ ," She gasps, flickering, and then dissapears. Dean shivers involuntarily.  

"Sammy!" He shouts, hustling to his brother's room and knocking loudly on the door. "Sam! I think we've got a situation, here!"

Sam opens his door in flash, the force of it nearly tipping Dean over. 

"Watch it!" He warns, glaring.  

Sam ignores him. "What going on? What happened?"

"I saw some chick in the kitchen, a ghost, I think."

"Really?" Sam says, sounding far more amused than concerned. 

"Yeah. She was all creepy and pale and said she needed our help."

"You think this place is haunted?" He leans against his doorframe, pushing back his hair as he wakes up.

"Maybe. Hell, who knows what's happened here. I betcha tons of people have died in this place. Plus they got a shit ton of cursed objects and weird spell books, she could be something from those too."

Sam nods. "Makes sense, but why'd she only just show herself now?"

"I don't know. Have we brought in anything new recently?"

The taller considers this before responding. "A couple things, I guess. I mean, we kept all those witch-y things we found last month, didn't we?"

"Yeah," Dean recalls the engraved boxes containing jems and dried leaves. "Yeah we kept those."

Sam studies him, frowning. 

"What, man? I gotta milk-stache or something?"

"No. Just..."

"Spit it out," Dean rolls his eyes. 

"Last night. You and Cas."

The older hunter stiffens. His mouth opens just a little, and it's all he can do to not look at the floor in shame. He shakes his head, harder and faster than really necessary. 

"No. Nonono, man. Nothing like that. Cas was just being weird," He fakes a chuckle. "We didn't – nothing happened."

"Dean," Sam intervenes, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders. "Hey, it's fine, okay? I'm glad. You guys should do that more often."

Dean can't believe what he's hearing. "What??"

"What do you mean 'what'?"

"Me and Cas. Me and Cas we aren't –" Dean stutters, fingers twisting around the sleeves of his shirt as he bites his lip. His stomach does a flip, and he chances a glance down the hall to make sure Cas isn't there, watching. "Dude we aren't like that. Cas would never... He's an angel, Sam. He doesn't  _want_ anything like that. And even if he did —"

He shakes himself, bringing himself up higher to compete with the broadness of his Sasquatch-sized brother. "Even if he did I'm certainly not anywhere in that equation."

"Then what the hell were you guys doing?"

"I don't know. He just did it. I think he was trying to make me feel better."

Sam gives knowing face. "Yeah, why have you been all down in the  dumps lately, anyway?"

"I haven't. I'm just –" He hesitates. "I'm just a tired is all."

"You know what's interesting..." Sam ponders, his whole mood changing like the switching on of a lightbulb. He crosses his arms, his brow furrowing in a familiar teasing gesture. "You two never really look at each other at the same time. You know, I'll see you glancing over at Cas, staring, and then when you think you'll get caught you look away again."

Dean snorts, rolling his eyes again and noticing that his hard, masculine walls are building up in front of him. They'd been torn down last night. 

"And then Cas will turn and do the soul-stare at you. It's just interesting, ya know?" Sam smirks. "In an observationally interesting kind of way."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growls defensively. "You have no idea what you're talking about, and this isn't funny."

He spins and stomps away, completely spacing on why he came here in the first place. 

—

Hours later, after Dean's cracked open his first beer at noon, Cas approaches him. He's not acting any different, not surprising. Of course Cas is the same. 

"Um, Dean..." The angel begins, and Dean peers up at him from the table where he's gathered all the witches' stuff. 

"Yeah?"

"Sam said that... That I should I check with you about something."

Dean swallows. "... Yeah?"

"I want to learn how to be a hunter. A proper one. I know I've tried before – and I know you said I sucked –" Cas takes a deep breath. Oh god, Dean can feel his emotions soaring and screaming. Cas wants to stay and be with them. "But if you could help me? Teach me? Maybe I could... Be of some use?"

"I mean..." He continues, "Since I've lost my grace, I can't do anything. I don't have my strength, my wings, or any of my powers. I don't belong here with you. I'll drag you down..."

Dean doesn't miss that Cas doesn't include Sam. Cas says 'you'.

"I don't want to stay out of the way, and even more I don't want to leave you..." Cas is in pieces, all twisted up in fear of rejection. Of being told he can't be here.

"Cas, of course you can stay. Of course we'll train you. Don't worry, man. I need you here," He keeps going even though his voice is cracking. "I don't want you to ever leave."

Cas smiles, loosening. 

"Thank you, Dean."

"Anything for you, Cas." He means it so much it hurts.

Cas huffs a little laugh, replying with – "Anything for you, Dean."

Dean shuts the dusty book that he'd been pretending to read. "Where do we start?"

Cas walks closer to the table, leaning across and setting down a slip of paper for him to read. It's an address somewhere in Lebanon.

"Sam said we should go there, get some supplies?"

"Did he, now?" Dean doesn't recognise what place it is. Whatever it is, it's in the southern part of town where he's never explored.

"He recommended we go now."

Dean grunts, and soon they leave.

—

The car ride hurts mostly because Castiel sits next to Dean. The hunter desperately wants to put his hand over the other's knee, squeeze it, and rest it there. Sneaking looks is easy when Cas is staring out the window at the houses they pass by. Classic rock rumbles through the impala quietly, just some background noise. Kind of wanting to stop the car and pour his feelings out to Cas, he turns the volume up higher. On a particularly long stretch of straight road, the Winchester peeks at Cas who's legs are stretched out and crossed, his hands buried in his sweater pockets. It's human and sweet, Cas looks so young like this, so at peace. Then the angel fixes him with a stare, and smiles.

Dean blushes. He's been caught red-handed staring, but Cas is  _smiling._ Bright and warm, the sun creating a silhouette of a halo around Cas's head. 

"I think this is very nice, Dean. Driving is much different now that I'm human, less nausea in my stomach. I see why you enjoy it."

Dean bites his tongue and offers a small smile.  _I love you,_ he thinks.

And for a second, he believes maybe Cas feels the same way.

—


	2. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cas's happiness is worth more than all the money in the world."

OF ALL THE places Sam could've sent them, Dean hadn't anticipated a top-notch suit and tie store. There are thousands of differently coloured undershirts, thirty seperate shades of ties in plum, and ninety styles of fedoras. Apparently Cas is deserving of the most expensive FBI costume ever bought. It's a classy-ass place, with an old, well-tailored man running the massive wood desk at the front. He offers help, says he can measure and design Cas a suit from scratch. Five hundred dollars isn't worth that though, so the hunter and the angel set to examining the hand-carved shelves and racks of pressed pants and blazers.

"What size are you?" Dean asks, flipping through some collared blue shirts. 

Cas glances up from the opposite side of the room, trying on a pair of shoes. "Um... I don't know. When I was on my own as a human, I didn't have the luxury of clothes that fit."

Oh. "Well... I'll give you a couple different shirts to try on. Then we'll know."

The shop is grand, carpeted, and dimly lit. There's candles on shelves that sport framed photos from the 40s and 50s. Dean never would have come here in his life, but now that he's in here, he wants a new outfit too. He won't get one, he respects that this trip is about buying something nice for Cas. 

"I like these..." Cas murmurs, walking carefully around the racks carrying a pair of nice black pants and smiling softly at them.

"They look exactly like your old ones," Dean comments, reaching out to feel the fabric and check the price. 

"I know. I miss my old clothes."

Thats makes sense, Dean supposes. Castiel wants something familiar, and Jimmy's suit had always done well for him. 

"Alright, well... Take these. Go try them on," He shoves three of the same shirt into Cas's hands, and the angel accepts them. "Show me the one that fits the best, so we can pick you some other nice colours."

Cas nods, and steps into the changing room nearby. 

Dean sits down on a velvet covered stool. These clothes, he realises, are special. They are the first ones Cas will own properly; whatever he picks, he picks because he likes it and wants it. Dean still can't get it into his head that Cas has fallen, that he's human now, and could be forever. It's easier to imagine it won't always be this way, because if he starts believing Cas will live and hunt with the brothers for the rest of their lives, he might start hoping something could happen between them. 

"Excuse me, sir –"

Dean nearly jumps out of his skin, he tips over off his seat, catching himself just in time. 

"Shit! Ow. Jeez, give a guy some warning!"

The store manager's expression doesn't change – then he chuckles. "Sorry, sorry. I 'ave a 'abit of sneakin' up on people."

"It's fine," Dean tells the guy, now recovered and standing. 

"I was just going to ask if your friend wanted any accessories? All belts, suspenders, and ties clips are half-price this week," He gestures to a wall near his checkout counter. "Black, brown, silver – whatever he likes."

"Uh..." An image has just appeared in Dean's mind. One of Cas in black suspenders, a loose tie, and tired from a day of hunting. His is hair mussed, but he's smiling. It makes Dean's gut twist; oh, hell is he a sucker for suspenders. He bites his tongue awkwardly as the idea of pulling Cas by those black straps surfaces; pulling Cas close, and kissing him hard. Not letting him go. Holy crap would Cas look  _fine as hell_ with them on. "Yeah, I think... I think he might want to try some on. Thank you."

Dean can't help but smirk, feeling giddy as his blood goes somewhere that's not the majority of his body. He goes over to the polished silver hooks the belts hang on, and picks out a simple one to accompany slim, black suspenders; the type that sort of cross in an x at the back. When he gets back to the deep red curtains that cover the changing room, Cas still isn't out. 

"You alright in there, man?"

"I can't..." Cas begins, sounding frustrated. "I can't get my shirt buttoned up right. It's doing something strange in the front. I can't quite seem to put them in the right way and –"

"Do you need help?" The question is out of Dean's mouth before he can stop it. Shit. He can't go in there with Cas all half-dressed and frazzled. He would lose it.

There's a pause from the other side of the curtain. Dean squeezes the belt and suspenders until his knuckles are white. He tries to take deep breaths, screwing his head on straight in case Cas says yes. 

"Yes, I think I would appreciate that."

Dammit. Dean's trapped himself and there's no way out of it without seeming like a jerk. 

"You can come in, Dean."

He sighs, and moves aside the cloth to enter. There's mirrors covering the three inside walls; all of them reflecting off one another so that there's a dozen Cas's and now – a dozen Dean's. It's brighter in here; well lit so people can check themselves out. 

The angel turns to face him, but not before Dean's spots the back of their collar accidentally tucked into their shirt. Cas's buttons are mostly done up, but there's still a few odd ones undone, and two extra spots hang down at the bottom because he didn't put the buttons through all the correct holes. Dean laughs, releasing any tension he had been feeling. 

"Oh my god, Cas. Have you ever buttoned a shirt before?" 

Cas tilts his head slightly, then says, "No. I never had to undress or change as Jimmy. And when I wasn't with you, I just wore t-shirts. Which," He fiddles with his open shirt cuffs. "I think are much more appropriate and a lot less of a hassle."

"Wow, I don't think I've ever heard you bitch before," Dean smirks, laughing again. He thinks Cas looks super adorable all squinty and irritated about something as trivial as a formal shirt. God,  _I am so done for. I just called him adorable. Jesus._ "Lemme help."

"I don't understand your amusement."

Dean tsks, pulling one of Cas's arms up so he fix the cuff. Then he does the other. Castiel is warm beneath his fingers, soft, too. He'd been colder, harder, as an Angel – the kind with a capital 'a' who are all 99% dicks. He still calls Cas one, though. Just with a lower case 'a', because he's not douchebag. 

"I don't know how you do that part yourself every morning, it's impossible to button it with one hand. Perhaps if humans had evolved with three hands..." Cas rambles on, but Dean can no longer hear him. His heart rate is picking up pace again, beating in his ears. His fingers slip over the shirt buttons as he starts to unbutton them one by one. His hands are shaking, and he has to take to breathing through his mouth. Careful not to let the shirt open too far, he finishes undoing all of Cas's work, and begins buttoning them all back up properly. 

Dean wants to shut his eyes and disappear, all he can think about is how he really wants to be taking  _off_ this shirt, running his hands all over Cas's chest and back. He wants to push him into the wall and lose his own clothes on the way. Terrible as it is, it's all he can do to to shamefully avoid eye-contact. He can hardly contain himself; it's been ages since he's helped dress anyone. Pretending Cas is someone else, or not there at all, proves impossible. When he reaches the end of the buttons, he's forced to connect his gaze with Cas's. 

"You are much better at this than I am," Cas compliments. His breath is soft and coffee-scented against Dean's face. 

"I've had more practice," He explains, reaching his hands behind Cas's head to pull up the collar and straighten it. He lingers in that position for too long, he knows. His arms are around the other's neck in a not-so-subtle position. Cas suddenly sways forward, his limbs wrapping around Dean's waist in a hug. He's left with no choice but to hug back; pressing Cas's cheek into his shoulder. He holds in his breath, heart beating too fast. Castiel can probably hear it, and is wondering why Dean's so worked up. 

"What are those things you brought with you?" The angel queries, not letting go. 

Choosing to release him, Dean's head is again sent spinning. He glances at the floor behind him to see what Cas meant. 

"Oh. It's a belt, and... Um... The guy at the desk said you would –" Dean flushes a bit. "You would look good in suspenders."

"I would look good?"

"Yeah, ya know..." Dean is full-on blushing, waving his hands around to try and be less obvious. Except he's sure Cas can see straight through him. He picks up the leather straps and belt. "Handsome, professional, sexy."

Shit. Why did he say that? He wasn't supposed to say that. His skin is burning with embarrassment. Wanting to get out as soon as possible, he shoves the items to Cas and starts to back out.

Cas gives him a well-deserved strange look, "Why is that important? Those are all socially constructed ideas that are not –"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Who cares? You're human now. Just go with it!" Dean says hurriedly, parting the curtain. "Maybe we'll be on a case and someone will have a suspenders kink; could be helpful."

Crap. Dean needs to stop talking right now. He is so friggin' red, his face hot. It can't get any worse than this. He pretty much just told Cas that  _he_ has a suspenders kink, and that he thinks Cas would look hot in them. Maybe he won't read between the lines. At last Dean escapes the cage of the changing room, beelining for the front door. He cracks it open, cool air rushing over his face. 

He's been trying to tell Cas how he feels for ages, without actually saying it. And now, within less than 24 hours, he's nearly snapped twice. He swears someone's playing some trick on him. How can he be expected to continue like this? After today, he has to go on a Cas hiatus. He turns around, ready to find some ties for Cas, and is stopped by the man himself standing right there. 

"Are you okay, Dean? You don't seem okay. Are you feeling alright?"

Castiel really needs to not say his name anymore. They already say it way more than anyone else ever has, and everytime he does it's like being blessed. 

"I'm fine. I just... I think some of that djinn stuff is still in me."

Cas frowns, "I see."

Then Dean sees. Cas has the suspenders on, and a red tie that contrasts the blue and white pinstripes of his shirt perfectly. His hair is smoothed out, new shoes on, and black blazer tucked under his arm. Dean gapes, not bothering to discreetly look Cas and up and down. 

"Wow... Cas, you look..." He shakes his himself, at a loss for words. "You look great, man."

Castiel grins timidly, rubbing his tie fondly. "Thank you. I feel... Much better in this."

"Yeah."

They wander back into the depths of the store, picking out doubles of Cas's outfit in different colours. Dean notices that as they load their haul into the counter for check-out, that Cas found a simple white shirt and... And a deep blue tie. Jimmy's clothes. The old man working happily boxes all the stuff with fancy paper, and Dean pays the really, really, expensive amount of money. The price doesn't bother him at all, though. Cas is smiling and running his hands over the boxes – and Cas's happiness is worth more than all the money in the world. 

—

Dinner is great that night. Spaghetti with homemade meatballs and red sauce. The team hasn't found a new case yet, and to be honest no one is really all that keen on finding one. Staying home and resting is more than welcome. Sam asks about their shopping trip, which Cas goes into detail about cheerfully. Dean doesn't listen; he was there. He's greatful Cas doesn't mention anything about their hug or how he did up his buttons. However, he's forced to pay attention when Cas says:

"Dean said he's still experiencing the effects of djinn poison... Is that possible?"

Sam looks at Dean. It's bullshit and they both know it. 

"Uh... Maybe since Dean didn't fully get submerged in a dream the venom sticks around longer," Sam suggests, carefully twisting noodles around his fork. 

"I suppose that could be true... Dean," The hunter snaps his eyes up. Regretting it the second he's trapped in Cas's steel blue irises. "I wish I could heal you."

"I wish I could heal you, Dean. And you Sam. I'm so sorry..." Cas is staring at his plate now, it's empty. "If I wasn't so foolish none this would have happened. Abbadon, Metatron... Their chaos is my fault," The angel announces. "Whatever mess they make on earth, however they hurt humanity, is because I was too proud to think I could be duped. I was –"

Dean wants to argue, wants to tell Cas they were all at fault here. But suddenly Cas is getting up, going quickly to the doorway, his cheeks wet. Oh shit, Cas is crying. 

"I was dumb, and gullible. I was so sure that what I was doing was right. And now... Now you two are helping me. Giving me a place to live," He gestures at the table. "Food to eat, clothes to wear. I have no way to thank you. I'm a human, without the street-skills of one. I can't even shoot a gun..." Castiel locks himself onto Dean. "I'm so sorry."

—

Dean doesn't hesitate to scramble after Cas once he exits the dining room. 

"Cas!" He calls out as they turn a corner to their bedroom. "Cas, hold up, man."

"I think I should go." Cas says, stopping but not turning around. 

"What? That's nuts, Cas. Where would you go?"

A shrug, "I don't know. I'd figure it out."

"Cas. You can't just  _go,"_ He grabs Cas's shoulder, trying to make them face each other. He's  successful, and Cas is refusing to look at him. Dean tilts his head, searching for their gaze. "C'mon..." He carefully uses a hand to nudge their head up. "I need you here."

_I need you._

_We're family. We need you. I need you._

_Where's the angel?_

_I'm not leaving here without you, understand?_

_I'd rather have you, cursed or not._

_Nobody wants Cas here more than I do._

_Stay, Cas. Stay with me and Sam in the bunker. Please? I begging you, man, don't go out there on your own. I care about you too much to – to... Just... Stay?_

Dean chances his hand slipping into Cas's palm, grabbing hold. He won't interlock their fingers, he won't cross that line. 

"I don't give a damn you can't fly, or that you don't have hulk strength anymore..."

Cas shakes his head, "No. No I can't help without those things. I can't help you. I'm useless." 

"Don't say that!" Dean interrupts forcefully. "Don't you dare say that.  You are not useless."

Cas gives him a pleading look, trying to tug his hand away, "I should go. I'll just cause trouble here. The Angels hate me, you'll be targeted. I can't put that on you guys."

"We'll work it out. We always do. Cas you are –"

"Dean stop. It doesn't matter what you say. I have to leave."

There is a bitter, threatening silence for a a minute. They glare at one another, hands still together. Something catches Dean's attention, and he peers behind Cas at the ghost woman he saw earlier. She's even paler, mouthing words at him he can't hear.

"There's a ghost behind you," He mutters without moving his jaw. He can't risk scaring the girl away. She holds her arms up on either side, but it seems like she can't move them. The air around her is shimmering, shifting into darkness and he thinks he sees chains on her wrists and a wall behind her back. Cas is facing her too, now. They watch quietly. The image of a cell is flickering around the ghost like a gateway to another world. Then she's gone, light floods the hall for a moment. When it dissapears, all traces of her are extinct.

"You are worth it Cas. You are worth every fight, every scar, every lie. I don't give a shit about being targets – we already are! But I do give a lot of shits about you being safe," He's saying all this to the back of Castiel's hair, but somehow that makes this easier. "You're worth losing battles for, worth killing for, Cas..." Dean's voice gets quieter, cracking. His chest is swelling with desperation, he can't let Cas go. "Cas, you are worth giving up everything for. Just like you did for me."

Courage doesn't fail the hunter as he reaches one more time for Cas's hand, this time sliding his fingers between their's and squeezing. Cas doesn't do it back. 

"You're good enough for me."

Then the angel curls his fingers so tightly around Dean's he thinks he might lose circulation in them. 

—


	3. Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything is hilarious, and nothing hurts."

CASTIEL STAYS, thank god. Occasionally he'll spiral into rants about why he should leave, why it would be better, why they'd be safer without him. Neither of the brothers engage in the arguments, refusing to listen and shutting the conversation down before it can begin. This frustrates Cas at first, but eventually he takes to cleaning the bunker from top to bottom. He sweeps, dusts, organises, sorts, and washes everything from the stair rails to the kitchen cupboards. 

He wanders about most days, various novels in hand as he spritzes and wipes shiny surfaces down or fluffs pillows. The brothers let him be, let him mull in his thoughts and study old books. They are still yet to find a new case, or the few times they have, they ignore them. Which sounds terrible, but they call someone else and set them on the trail. It's best for everybody if they have some time off. Plus, they still need to train Cas up. He's been stubborn about firing a gun, and can't seem to get into the head space of an FBI agent. He's still so much of an angel for being a human. 

There is one case that no one neglects: The Mystery Woman. The lady in chains that is haunting the bunker. She doesn't appear very often, but when she does it's always in front of Dean. Sam's interrogated him about every detail of her at least eighteen times, scanning for the tiniest clue to her identity with no avail. It's an impossible task when all they have to go by is some mouthed, or sometimes impossibly quiet, words she says – and her deadness. Sam is in the middle of yet another question and answer with Dean, when Cas steps into the long research room fully dressed. 

Typically, he lounges about the house in sweatpants and slippers. He hasn't even worn the suit since they bought it, but now he is. His hair is combed and parted, his face freshly shaved. Dean nearly chokes on his beer when he spots the suspenders that accompany the outfit. 

"What the hell are you dressed up for?" Dean coughs.

"I... I have a job interview."

Dean chokes again,  _"What?"_

"A job interview. To make money. For all of us."

"Wow, really, Cas? That's great!" Sam compliments, beaming. 

"Yeah... There is an opening at the high school, and... I thought I might give it a shot."

The oldest brother scoffs, "Teaching what?"

Sam glares at him, but perks up at Cas in interest.

"History."

 _"History?"_ Dean repeats incredulously. "You're kidding right?"

"Why does that sound so impossible to you?"

"Since when are you an expert on history, Cas?"

Castiel glares, expression cold, "I've been here since the beginning of humanity. I witnessed the first man-made house, I saw the first fire apes built. I've watched entire civilisations rise and fall. I stood by during every single war on earth as men slaughtered each other over land and beliefs. I was alive when the Dead Sea was just a lake that was feeling a little poorly," Cas tells him. Dean's insides are curdling with shame and guilt. He was being a dick, yeah. He hadn't thought Cas would take it so personally. 

"Every presidents inauguration. The creation of countries. Lewis and Clark, all the Cleopatras. Since the genres of music were defined and films could first be made. The first skyscraper. I watched as Christopher Columbus crossed the Atlantic, as the English killed thousands of innocents. I saw the first dog get domesticated. I've been around since the wheel was first built. I helped the ancient Egyptians construct the Pyramids."

Sam is gaping. Dean is gaping more and feeling like a complete idiot. 

"I know more about this world than I will ever know about about Heaven, or Angels, or even about myself. I understand how it's came to be better than I will _ever_  understand _you_ when you say that –" Cas pauses mid-sentence. His tone had been rising. 

"Than when you tell me you  _need me._ When you say  _I'm worth it._ What does that mean? How does that make sense?"

Cas stares at Dean for a long, solid minute. The hunter has frozen, and Sam seems to have made himself as uninvolved as possible. Apparently, whatever this is, is between him and Cas. 

"I'm going," Cas huffs. "I'll be back later."

—

Dean feels like shit for an hour before he decides to do something about it. He was an asshole to Cas. He is just trying to do something with his life to be helpful to people; sure it's not how the Winchesters run things, but still. Castiel will be teaching kids and learning stuff himself. It will give him an excellent opportunity to work on his people skills. 

There is nothing  _wrong_ with wanting a job. Nothing at all. Dean's just scared because if Cas gets this job then he won't ever need to leave the bunker. He'll spend out all his life here. Which, again, isn't the problem. Of course Dean would be glad to have him here all the time, and forever. The problem is that the Dean and Sam will leave here, a lot. They'll go on hunting trips that could last weeks, they'll meet the next big-bad they have to defeat and they'll be gone for  _months._ Castiel can't just stay here alone living some human's life while they go to war. Dean needs his angel. Because if he's going to die, it's going to be bloody and bad and he doesn't want to be a thousand miles away from the person he loves. If it really came down to it, in his last moments he'd want to tell Cas the truth; if Cas isn't there, then he would never know. 

The other side of the coin is Cas stays here, is happy, has this human life and thoroughly enjoys it – then is torn from it all. Dragged back into the endless war between good and evil, Heaven and Hell, the earth and the supernatural. Castiel will be forced into the life of hunting, guns, killing, and war without any choice. Dean is sure this would be worse. All this time with humanity taught Cas free will, and made him want to exercise that fundamental right as much as he can; being sucked back into the battle would tear him apart. If anyone deserves a break, it's him. If anyone deserves to be happy, it's Cas. Castiel, the fallen angel. 

Dean gets into the impala and drives through the quiet streets of Lebanon. No ones out at mid-afternoon on a Monday. Castiel's suit-and-tie outfit is pretty great, yeah, but it's missing one thing. One, small, insignificant detail that Dean is sure Cas wants back. He pulls up in front of a thrift shop, going inside and giving a half-wave to the lady working. Hundreds of lanterns, lamps, chandeliers, and just plain ol' light bulbs hang from the ceiling. They are dusty, multi-coloured, but do their job well. Knick-knack covered shelves take up the majority of the store. Old, wooden cabinets with glass doors protect gold jewlery and fake-looking jewelled rings. 

The hunter passes by a massive rack heavy with dozens of leather purses and cloth messenger bags, random stuffed animals and hats are cluttered all over the walls. Dean finds the clothing section before too long and starts thumbing mindlessly through the neon scarves and lacy pants. It's a ton of crap, mostly. Who the hell would wear a leather t-shirt? Or what adult would wear a tellatubbies-inspired dress? He's about to give up and when he sees an open doorway leading to a back room. 

He goes through it, not expecting much. The floor is lined with old rubbish shoes, weird books are laid across stained plastic tables, and a bunch of creepy-ass mannequins model cheap clothing and ratty wigs. With the exception of one yellow mannequin in the far corner, wearing a green wig, and the item Dean has been searching for. 

He buys it, not the entire doll, just  _it._

He smiles at it the whole way home; he laid it nicely across the passenger seat, and is about to pull into the bunker's garage when he realises Cas must have walked to the school. He folds up his present, wrapping it in his own coat, and sets it in the backseat. Then he reverses the impala and heads off to the high school. It's probably a half hour walk there, but for him it's only a seven minute drive. He doesn't even have to make it all the way there though – Cas is walking on the sidewalk two blocks away from the school. 

The angel sees the impala the instant Dean turns the corner, and they scowl at the sight of it. Dean laughs, he's not in a bitchy mood anymore. In fact, he is super excited to give Cas his gift. He hits the break in the middle of the street, leaning over to throw open the passenger seat door, and propping himself up on one arm. 

"Cas! C'mon! Get in."

"I'm fine walking, thanks."

"Cas," Dean says sternly. "Just take the ride."

"I'd rather not. Last time we spoke you were being rude."

"Well you gave a damn good speach, too."

"Speach?"

"Yeah," Dean tells him, arm aching from holding himself up. "Your whole  _'I've been here since the beginning of humanity'_ speach." 

"It wasn't... a speach," Cas half-heartedly denies. 

"Whatever. C'mon, man. Tell me about your interview."

Castiel sighs loudly, than finally walks over and gets in the car. Dean grins, he glares, it's good all the same. 

—

"What's that?" Castiel asks when they get out of the impala, shutting the doors with a satisfying slam. 

Dean holds his bundle-of-a-coat close to his body, "Oh, nuthin'. You'll see later."

When they get into the kitchen, it's smells of food. Two plates of cooked frozen pizza and small salads sit innocently on the table. A note is left between them. Dean glances at Cas, who just shrugs. They both sit down, across from one another, and the hunter picks up the message to read aloud. 

"Hey guys, I was starving so I made some dinner. Yes it's frozen, yes that's salad. Eat it Dean," Dean snorts. "Enjoy, Sam. PS: I'm out getting some weird plants for a spell that could give us some answers about the bunker ghost. I'll be back in a couple hours."

"This was very nice of him," Comments Cas, picking up his fork and stabbing the lettuce. 

"I guess, but now you see why I cook," He's smiling though, digging into his pizza. Sam set this up on purpose, though. There's no way in hell he just thought  _hey, I'll be a cool brother,_ no; Sam is meaning this to be like a date or some crap. Like Cas and Dean are supposed to open up about their feelings. Ain't no way that's happening.

"I'm sorry if I was unkind earlier," Cas apologises out of no where. "It wasn't very polite of me to just leave in the middle of our conversation."

Dean halts mid-bite, then puts down his utensil. He wipes his face with a napkin, and stares at Cas – who is staring back. 

"Cas, no. That was my bad. I was being a jackass, I woulda left myself," He waits a second, then says, "Did you actually help the Egyptians with the pyramids?"

Cas huffs a laugh, "No. I made that up to be more impressive."

Dean grins, finishing off his last slice. He's been purposely ignoring the greenery on his plate.

"How'd they do it then?"

"Aliens," The other man deadpans.

"Pfffttt... Yeah right."

"Okay, you got me. No extraterrestrials were involved."

"That's what I thought."

Dean pokes at his salad, nibbling at some pieces and eating the carrots. There's silence at the table, but it's a nice kind of silence. Cas has finished his meal, and is slouching in his chair. His posture is ruined without his grace stiffening him out. 

"What did you mean before..." Dean mumbles, not sure what's about to come out of his mouth. "When you said you don't get why I need you?"

God, Dean wants to crawl into a hole and die. He doesn't want to talk about this. Why did he ask? His gut squirms, cramping up a little.

"Well. Um. I guess... I guess I'm unfamiliar with being...'needed'," Cas explains in a whisper. The room is very small now, a thousand tons of pressure on each of them. "I think what I mean is... I don't quite know why  _you_ need me."

He sits forward, putting elbows on the table and giving Dean his attention.

"The Angels, they needed me, to get you out of hell. To keep tabs on you. Naomi needed me to trick you. To kill you and get the tablet. I needed to take the darkness of Sam's mind into my own when his wall broke down... And now Metatron needed me to use my grace for his curse," Cas sighs. "And so when you say you need me... All I know how to do is ask what you want."

"Cas, Cas  _no,"_ Dean argues. "Those bastards never needed you. They never wanted you by their side or to be a team. They  _took_ from you. They took everything you've ever had without permission. They used you because they knew you'd do anything as long as you were given a decent reason," Dean can't take sitting at the table right now, so he gets up and clears the dishes. He opens the fridge and grabs out beers for them both as he talks. "They didn't get to know you, or listen to you. They didn't treat like an equal or with any respect. They used you Cas –" He says, tone gone desperate. "They used you in the ways they thought you were useful. Now, don't get me wrong..." Dean sits back down, frowning.

"I used you too, I was terrible to you sometimes, still am. And I'm sorry for that every goddamn day," He briefly peeks at Cas and sees him peering down into a half-empty bottle. "But I need you differently than they do. I need you because you're..."  _His friend? His family?_ Both words correct but neither the one he wants. "You're... Amusing. Smart. Strong, brave, and you care so much about  _helping_ people –  _and_ being nice to them. I need you because you're a thousand things I'm not and somebody has to even this group out. I need you because..."  _I love you. And if you left I would pine after you for the rest of my life._

"Me too," Cas says, saving Dean from having to go on. "I need you too."

Neither says much after that, but they also don't want to leave the dining table. For now they sit, quietly sipping beers and weird martinis, hoping they won't have to deal with reality any time soon. They flick beers caps at one another, construct temples out of their silverware, and indulge in some pre-packaged cookies dipped in 2% milk. They giggle and guffaw at old hunting stories and tales of snooty Angels; Cas getting very into acting out the people in his anecdotes. Their drunken haze makes them looser, more open to suggestion, and dulls Dean's hyperaware senses that glitch and buzz whenever Cas is too close, whenever the angel does something clever, or dorky, or adorable.

Movements are in slow motion, everything drowned in a gooey mess of alchohol that diludes the mind and the body. Dean stands up, wobbling slightly, and heads to the freezer to fetch the bottle of gin. He beams at Castiel, who shakes his head and mumbles something unintelligible. Dean grabs Cas's wrists, yanking him out of the kitchen and into the living room where they had their cuddling session over a week ago. He pushes the other man onto the couch, and Dean squishes down opposite him. Their backs lean against the armrests, legs up on the sofa and crossing at the center of it. Dean's lips burn as he takes a pull from the cold green bottle in his hand, passing it to Cas while gasping to get the sensation undercontrol. The other gulps some down like a pro, and mumbles more.

"I have..." Dean fights to speak, "No... No idea," He giggles, running a foot along the top of Cas's shins. "I have no idea... What you're saying."

"Heh –" Cas smirks, lids drooping. He takes another sip. "I said! I said, I don't – I didn't – I didnote get the job..." 

Dean growls a little. Nothing feels real, "Idiots! You are great. They don't know..." He looses his train of thought momentarily. "They don't know what they're missing. You're the greatest in all the land! You better than an'body. You shoulda, shoulda got it. M'sorry."

Cas waves it off, Dean stealing back the gin to drink some. He should – they  _both –_ should stop drinking. They're too far gone now to care very much. 

"It's alright. I don't think I was the right fit."

"Yeah?"

"No..." Cas scrunches up his face and pitches his voice higher, as though impersonating his interviewer. "Not enough work expierence! I'm sorry you're no good for us! Ba-bye!"

Dean bursts into laughter, followed by the angel. It's not even funny, it was a rotten impression, but they giggle and squirm and toe each other through their socks. Everything is hilarious, and nothing hurts.

Dean suddenly stands up on the couch, violently swaying. He's about to tip over, but then he tumbles down to slot himself between Cas and the sofa. The other man nearly falls off; Dean catches him by slipping his arm around their waist and pulling their sides close together. The two's legs are intertwined again. The hunter sucks in a deep breath, more aware of his situation now than before. Luckily, he still's got the booze. He pours the cap of the bottle full of gin, it's about the size of a shot glass, and he tips it down his throat. He does this once more, before offering the third cap-full to Castiel who accepts it. 

He takes the mostly empty bottle from Dean, setting it on the floor with immense effort. Meanwhile, Dean is snuggling his face into Cas's shoulder. God, he loves it right here. The angel is warm, soft, and comforting – not a cruel bone in his body. 

"I gotcha somethin'," Dean slurs after a while.

"What?"

"You'll see."

"When?"

"Later."

An old grandfather clock begins to chime, signalling who-knows-what-o'clock at night. Smells of pizza dough still waft around the bunker, a dozen beer caps strewn in the corners of the kitchen floor. On the wall behind the couch, a huge painting of a black horse is hung. A knight in silver, blood-stained armour rides on its back, holding out a scroll that unfurls and falls out of the painting's range. On it, are the words: 

_"For even he who is most greedy for knowledge can achieve no greater perfection than to be thoroughly aware of his own ignorance in his particular field. The more be known, the more aware he will be of his ignorance."_

Dean reads it aloud; stuttering on long words and skipping over small ones, but he reads it all the same. It was something the Men of Letters swore by, a quote they all took seriously. He wishes sometimes he could be like them – like the Men. Strong, courageous, intelligent. Oraganised with their plans and always taking the high road. His life has never been that easy. It has always been the dirty, screwed-up way that solved things. Or maybe that's because that's the only thing he's ever tried. 

"Shush," Cas breathes, and Dean realises the angel's arm is around him. His thoughts are coherent, but his actions and words are not. Dean's face is buried once more in the other's shoulder. 

"IloveyouCas."

There is silence, and Dean cannot believe what he just said. He hadn't meant to, it had just slipped out. He prays that Cas didn't hear, that he understood it in a friend-way and not in a love-love way. His whole body is tense, eyes squeezed shut in fear of the other man's response.

"Violin class?"

Dean chuckles in drunken relief, the laugh rumbling through him and pounding in his head. 

"Yeah. Yeah, violin class."

"What about it?"

"Nothing, n'er mind."

Several warm, content, giggly moments later, the front door of the bunker emits a loud, rusty screech – announcing Sam's return home. Having half a mind to get up and collect himself, Dean swings over Cas with one leg; midway through his departure stopping because everything has gone blurry and brain is throbbing in his skull. He's practically straddling Cas, barely holding himself up above them. Unable to move, and unwilling to meet Cas's eyes, Dean's stuck between laying back down and collapsing on the floor. The compromising position is not one he wants to be found in by his brother.

"Sorry," He apologises, about to fall on the floor, when a hand pinches the collar of his shirt. A warm palm hits the nape of his neck, and instincts force him to glance down. 

"Dean..." Cas says drunkenly. "I know how to button a shirt."

Dean smiles nervously, not sure what the man is trying to say. 

"Yeah, okay, Cas. I'm getting up now," With a final surge of strength he jerks his head up... Just as something warm and damp skims over his chin. Dean gets up almost in a panic, stumbling over his feet. He gapes at Cas who has a hand held out to him, as if inviting him to come back.  _Had that been..? Did Cas just... Had Cas just tried to kiss him?_

_He couldn't have... Right? That's ridiculous. Castiel is wasted, probably for the first time ever, too. There's no way in hell he would have kissed Dean sober. He's just feeling weird, and they had been all touching... Maybe his angel-side was confused and thought it was customary to kiss? Or something?_

Dean's bullshitting himself – whatever. He doesn't care. Well, he does actually, he cares a lot. But he can't think about that right now. 

"Hey guys," Sam says cheerfully, entering the living room. "Are you guys... Are you drunk?"

"We are hammered," Cas tells him. 

Sam isn't sure whether to laugh or be concerned, so he glances at Dean for some sort of sign. Dean looks like he's having a mental breakdown; his eyes huge and jaw clenched. He's swaying slightly, and Sam sees the gin bottle on the floor by the sofa. Had they been... Sitting there together? Drinking? He grins.

"What you smilin' for?" Dean demands.

"I'm just glad you two got some time together."

"Yeah... Whatever..." Dean growls, stomping out and leaving Sam and the angel alone. 

—

Dean flops into bed with an immense sigh. He's too exhausted to bother with drinking water or taking an aspirin. He'll regret it in the morning, but for now he just needs to sleep. The sound of lumbering footsteps echo down the hallway outside, halting in front of his door, the shadows of feet underneath it. A few minutes later, the persons's steps are lulled as they leave; it must have been Cas.

Normally when Dean is drunk his emotions are shut up behind a wall – locked away – it's half the reason he drinks. Right now, however, it's different. His feelings are crashing through the flood gates like a tsunami. He curls up in a ball on top of his blankets, the tears falling fast and hard. He can't seem to stop them. Everything between him and Cas is becoming too much. Too much touching, too much talk, too much focus on each other with no case or disaster to distract them.

The whole time he's known Castiel there's been some major issue. The apocalypse, Sam being soulless, the Leviathan and God tablets... But now Cas is human, the world is pretty peaceful. The Angels are dealing with Metatron, the demons with Abbadon.

When there's no monsters left on the outside to fight, you're forced to face the ones inside yourself.

 —

"I am never drinking with you again," Cas moans, pressing his palms to his eyes. 

Dean chuckles, "Ha, yeah. Me neither. Here, this'll help." He promises, setting a plate of hash browns in front of them both. "Sucks all that booze right up. You'll be alright. You take that aspirin I gave you?"

"Eagerly."

They're sitting at one of the long wooden research tables eating breakfast and flipping through old Men of Letters files. The ghost has appeared a lot more often lately, and she seems to be getting  _worse,_ if at all possible. She can barely move her mouth, and is slumped forward so far she probably can't even see Dean when she shows up. 

Dean's decided. Sweet Jesus, he's decided. He can't keep it a secret any longer, he'll implode if he has to pretend any longer – he's in love with Cas. And he's going to tell him. His heart hammers rapidly in his chest, his hands becoming clammy. He's lingering in the door frame between the kitchen and the main room where Cas is merrily eating. 

"You joining me?"

"Yeah," Dean rasps. "Give me a sec."

"Are you okay?"

"I never gave you your present."

Cas perks up, setting his fork down.

"Oh? Well... May I have it now?"

"Lemme grab it."

The angel nods, a tentative smile on his face that makes Dean both more relaxed and a million times more stressed.  _This is it. He can't fuck this up. It's just three words... Three little words. How hard can that be? Even if Cas thinks he's nuts, it'll be okay. Probably. Hopefully. He can't think about that right now; he needs to focus on getting Cas's gift. He knows how to start his speech – how to explain why he knows he's... in love. And why he's choosing to say something about it now. Three words._

Just three.

How hard can it be?

He steps into the kitchen, collecting his jacket that still has the present wrapped in it, then returns to the table across from Cas. Sitting down, he places the parcel in the center keeping his hands on it so the other won't open it yet. 

"Before I give you this, I just wanted to say a few things..." He sucks in a huge breath. "First, I want you to know that... I'm proud of you. I'm sorry you didn't get that teaching job, but I'm glad you tried. Im impressed by how well you're dealing with... With being human. I mean –" He attempts a nonchalant laugh. "You became a different  _species,_ it would have been fine if it took you some time to adjust... But you just fell right into it like it's no biggy."

Cas is staring at him with huge, blown-pupils, his expression greatful and gentle. He doesn't say anything, for which Dean is glad. Being interrupted would throw his whole spiel off track. 

"Secondly, I hope you know that you belong to no one. You are your own person, you have free will, don't let anyone take that from you. And stop beating yourself up over things you couldn't have changed – everything you've done since I've known you, you did because you believed it was right. Your intentions are pure, and you strive to be better – and  _that's_ what really matters."

Dean bites his lip, fingers squeezing his jacket hard. Here it is. The moment has come. No more avoiding. No more pretending. 

The truth, will prevail. 

"Lastly, um," He clears his throat, no longer able to look at Cas. He forces himself too anyway. He has to do this right. He has too! 

"Lastly, I wanted to tell you about the djinn."

"The djinn?" Cas interjects, at a loss. 

"Yes. Um, I wanted to tell what... Tell you what my wish would have been."

"Your wish?"

Dean nods awkwardly. 

"The djinn makes something you really want come true in an alternate universe. He plops you into this brand new life, completely different from your actual one, and changes one specific aspect of it. When I got caught by a djinn a few years ago, my world had my mom in it. She was still alive, and my family never became hunters. I wasn't one, and neither was Sam or my dad."

Cas frowns, leaning forward and putting his hands together beneath his chin. He's listening intently; the pressure is on. 

"I know that if the djinn-poison had worked a couple weeks ago, what I  want would have been different. I know what it would've been like, or I have a pretty good guess at least. How it would've went down exactly, I have no idea – that doesn't matter though."

Dean sits up straighter, facing Cas directly. His fidgeting comes to an end, the angel senses the shift in the mood and frowns even more. 

"I know how my dream life would have been different. I know what would have changed. And since then I haven't stopped thinking about how I could make that dream a reality... Or how I could try. And all I have to do is act on something I've been feeling for years and months... Cas... I... I..." His voice breaks, and he can't help but rub a hand over his face and slouch in his chair. He's falling apart as they speak. 

"Cas..."

The angel reaches an arm across the table and sets his hand on the inside of the hunter's elbow, giving it a slight squeeze. 

"I love you. I love you, Cas."

The whole room is spinning, rocking back and forth. He's afraid he might pass out. He said it, but no one's saying anything back. Cas isn't across from him when his vision returns, blurred though it is. Then a hand is on his arm, yanking him up. And there's Castiel. 

Cas says something Dean can't hear, it's like there's cotton in his ears. Cas keeps saying it. And then the sound waves finally reach him. 

"I love you too, Dean. I love you so much."

It's too good to be true... But then Dean's falling into Cas and they're kissing. Soft and hard, fast and slow, touching and pulling. They don't want to stop. It's so fragile, this moment, it could shatter and the pieces could get separated and lost. The only way to prevent that is to never stop being together. 

That's not a bad way to spend the rest of their lives.

_Together._

_—_

THE NEXT DAY is a daze. They wake in the same bed, holding each other and smelling like love and lust and longing. Sam teases them and pretends to gag whenever they kiss or touch. Which is a lot. They can't keep their hands off each other, and they don't want too. 

It's strange how easily they melt into this; the relationship, the love. It doesn't feel all that new, if they're being honest. Maybe they've both been dreaming about this for so long, they've dreamed it to perfection. They know how it's meant to work without any practice, because they've been practicing in their minds since they first met. 

Dean is standing in the middle of the garage, opening up the impala's doors to clean it up and pack a picnic. Yes, they are going on a picnic, and it's going to be great. Vacuuming the car is kinda fun with Cas at his side, especially when he takes the hose and childishly chases after the other man. It makes loud sucking sounds in the empty air, and Dean laughs as Castiel pretends to glare. He's wearing a trenchcoat. A second-hand tan trenchcoat that Dean bought from the thrift store, that's practically identical to his old one. Cas had beamed the moment he unwrapped Dean's coat yesterday and saw it folded up inside. It was a déjà vu moment; flashing them back to when Cas was 'Emmanuel' and Dean had held onto his coat after the angel released the Leviathans into the world. 

"Dean! Stop it! You're gonna suck up my jacket!"

"I'll buy you a new one!" He kids. 

"I don't want a new one! This one is special."

It is special. Dean puts the tube back into the vacuum, shutting it off. He flirtatiously smirks at Cas, his hands capturing the angel's sexy black suspenders, "C'mere..."

Cas tries to scowl, but Dean kisses it away as he pulls them close together.  

"Can you go grab the picnic basket, please?" He asks sweetly. 

"Fine," Cas says in mock-grumpiness. 

He pulls away, his dress-shoes clacking on the stone floor as he begins towards some steps into the main bunker. Grinning, Dean turns to wheel the vacuum away. 

His heart stops, jaw drops, and he leaps backward as he sees a very haggard and tired looking Cas staring at him in awe. 

 _"Holy shit,_ Cas!" He exclaims, shocked. This can't be... He just saw Cas... He spins his neck around in time to see the tails of a trenchcoat disappear through the metal door on the far side of the garage. He looks this other Cas up and down. They're frowning, with huge creases in their forehead and slightly bloodshot eyes. When Cas was newly human, he found it impossible to sleep and was unsure how to make it through the days. Forgetting to eat, then wondering why his stomach ached. Not drinking water, and getting huge migraines and falling over. He should be worried about why there's another Cas and what he's doing here, but strangely he's not.

The Castiel standing in front of him is identical to how Cas looked the day Dean left to take care of the djinn himself.

Then it hits him.

Oh. 

_Oh._

_Oh my fucking God,_ Dean thinks. 

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fourth and final chapter will be up within the next week. Just wanted to leave y'all with a cliffhanger.  
> 3/4/16
> 
> UPDATE: Sorry the last chapter is taking a while! I'm about halfway through it now, and I'm on spring break, so it should be done very soon. For reals.   
> 3/21/16


	4. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Humans weren't built to endure heartbreak. And neither, it seems, were angels."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of S9 spoilers. Just as a passing reference, no serious details.

CAS KNOWS the second Dean storms out of the bunker he should follow after him, but he doesn't.

Not just because the hunter was being stubborn and obnoxious; Cas is tired.  _Really, really_ tired. Being a human hasn't been easy, especially when so many angels are pissed at him. He doesn't blame them, Cas was the one who'd been stupid enough to trust Metatron – to  _believe_ that he himself could help his celestial family. Now he knows better, and he's accepted that maybe he's better off down here, on earth. His guilt came too late, it seems, for he destroyed the world once again before he was forced to cling to his shame while trapped in his human body. 

He trudges through the bunker, sighing, and settling down by his abandoned coffee to research more about the Knights of Hell. 

"Hey," Sam greets as Cas flips open the nearest book. "Where'd Dean go?"

"He left."

Sam pauses, "Left? To where?"

"He's convinced that there  _is_ a djinn."

The hunter groans, pushing some hair out of his face. "Seriously? I told you both it was just some punk kids screwing around with fire."

"I know," Cas agrees, propping his elbows up on the table and staring at the bookshelves behind Sam. "I agree. I tried to tell him, but I think... I think he just wants to get out of here for awhile."

"That's what the bar's for! He's an idiot," Sam shakes his head. "It's a wild goose chase. There's nothing out there!"

"You'd rather he was wasting away in some tavern than lurking around an old, harmless warehouse?"

"I'd rather he was home with us."

Cas nods, frowning. He attempts to read the volume he picked up, but his eyes can't focus on the small letters. He's uneasy about being here; both because he doesn't want the brothers targeted, and because he gets the sense Dean doesn't want him here. Which is strange, because he's the one who insisted Cas stay. Ever since he first chose a bedroom as his own, Dean's barely spoke to him. He's caught them watching him many times, and they've just glances away. Perhaps Dean knows something about Cas that he hasn't shared. Perhaps Dean is trying to convey things silently, and Cas just isn't understanding.

An hour later, Sam slams shut a dusty book and gets up to stretch his legs. Cas surveys him, fiddling with the strings on his sweatshirt. Human mannerisms take over his body when he isn't paying attention.

He's been caught in this weird in-between place where he wants to more human and less so at the same time.

He's being both pulled up towards Heaven, and pushed out of it. He wants to walk the earth, and leave it. He wants to protect the angels, or maybe  _fix_ them – and also look out for the Winchesters. He needs his wings back, and he needs to stay human as punishment and to learn. Cas is being yanked in so many different directions he can't pick one way to turn. It easier to keep low where he is instead of going out to help people and screwing it all up. 

Too many mistakes. Too much hurt. His life isn't worth that much.

Now that he's human, an alien idea has been flitting around his head. People in society here are chastised and judged and hated while they're alive – but when they die for the sake of something bigger than themselves, something  _good –_ all their faults are forgotten. All the bad they caused is erased, and they are celebrated as a hero who fought for good with integrity. Cas has never had much pride or self-esteem. As an Angel qualities such as those were frowned upon, but even as a human he doesn't feel things like that. It could be good, however, to be remembered... not in vain... but in joy. 

In this world people live as villains and when they die they are named heroes. He could be a beacon of peace and health to others, not a symbol of death and betrayal. For that's what he's become.

_Traitor._

_Backstabber._

_Blasphemous._

_Human._

_Sinful._

_Disloyal._

_Liar. Liar. Liar._

Cas's self-loathing is cut short by Sam reentering the room, his phone in hand. 

"Dean's not answering his phone. I called him like six times."

Castiel leaps up, well, not really. His energy level is severely low. But he stands, and gets out his own cellphone.

"Let me try him."

"I don't think that'll do any good, man. He wasn't answering. I think something happened."

The friends stare at the books and papers scattered across the table, all the seemingly pointless research they've been doing glowing with with even more unimportantance. Right now, they have to to find Dean.

"You think there may be an actual djinn?" Cas asks carefully.

Sam replies hesitantly, "That's the only thing I can think of. Unless some other thing has got him."

A weird rush shoots through the ex-angel's veins;  _adrenaline._

"You have more cars, right?" He checks.

"Yeah, of course."

"Get one started, I'll grab a few things – silver, some of that dream root just in case – I'll meet you out there."

Sam nods, "Yeah, okay. Good plan. I'll find the address too."

They part to take on their seperate tasks, neither wasting a single second. 

—

The warehouse is creepy enough from the outside. All the windows are shattered, or coated in moss and years of gross mold. It's made of crumbling concrete, wood panels, and a few huge support beams that hold up a large, second-story room that juts out of the building. Sam hops out of the old Ford they arrived in, strutting over to the walls and examining a large spray-painted portion of it. It's bitterly cold out, an angry wind sweeping through the alley way they're parked in. The ground is muddy, coating Cas's shoes in an instant. 

"You see a door?" He asks the much taller man, gripping a jar and a silver blade in his hand. 

"Yeah, there's one right here. I think I can bust through it pretty easily if I can't open the lock."

Sam stows his pistol, loaded with silver bullets, in the waistband of his jeans as he gets down to pick the lock. It takes almost no time at all; not nearly enough for Cas to collect himself. He's kinda freaking out. 

He's mortal now, he could get killed within the next hour. Regardless of what he said before, he's not ready to die. Not yet. He's use to going into places armed with his flight and celestial powers; this'll be the first occasion to try out his  _human_ abilities. All of which seem to be useless – ranging from getting hungry and needing the restroom. Both things he's still getting used to. Human's have no special powers or talents, except perhaps that they can feel such deep emotions – that they are born with free will – though in his expierence feelings have acted as a grievance, not as an advantage.

"You sure you don't want a gun?" Sam questions probably for the dozenth time.

"I told you, Sam, I don't know how to use one."

He's given a doubtful look.

"You can trick Dean with that 'you don't understand humans' crap but not me. You're thousands of years old Cas, your job was to look out for humanity, I think somewhere in there you learned how to work a pistol."

Cas is taken aback, though he supposes Sam is correct. "You are... Not wrong. I still don't want one."

"Okay."

Sam opens the door carefully, they would like to surprise the genie and get in and out of there as fast as possible. They know Dean's inside; his car is parked out front in broad view of people driving past outside. Castiel follows Sam wearily, scanning the shadows for any sign of blue flames or movement. Inside, there's row upon row of metal racks and shelving units. Blackened plastic containers are scattered everywhere, the distinct scent of metallic blood stuffing the damp air. 

Sam gestures at Cas to go up a set of stairs, and motions that he's going to search on the ground floor. Castiel sees a fleeting image of himself being tossed over the railing at the top and falling to his death amongst the abandoned machinery at the bottom. He shakes himself, and begins making his way up. Anxiety makes his heart beat faster, and he's sure the djinn will hear it before he can sneak up on it. 

He reaches the doors that lead to the room that hangs out of the warehouse, and he's suddenly very sure that's where Dean is. He spins back around; his height from here allows him to see down every aisle on the first floor. He spots Sam, and no one else. He gives the man a wave, and they return it. Soon, the professional hunter is at his side. They brace themselves to burst in and save Dean, Cas biting his lip and Sam releasing the safety on his gun. 

"You good?" He checks. 

Cas nods his assurance, and then Sam kicks the door down in one go. 

Dust swarms up, blinding their vision and prickling at their eyes. Recovering quickly, Sam heads straight in, and Cas does the same.   The Winchester swings his steady arms around, waiting to shoot at the djinn the moment it shows it's tattooed face. It's even darker in here than in the rest of building, all the windows are blocked with wood and cardboard. 

When Castiel's eyes adjust, he sees a young girl tied to a thin rusted metal wall by some chains. He rushes to her, ending up the center of what seems to be a large cubicle. He would feel trapped, only the walls have holes like a chain-link fence might. He checks her pulse, and is relieved to find she's alive. Sam is right behind him, pointing his gun around. 

"Untie her. Take out the tubes in her arm," Sam coaches. Suddenly, he swears, a shot goes off, and another. 

Cas ignores the ringing in his ears, and helps the girl to rest in the floor. Her lids are flickering, and she's mumbling, but she's alive. A worrying slam shakes the room, but another gun shot and a thudding sound tells Cas the djinn is dead. 

On the opposite wall of where the girl was hanging, is a dark silhouette of a man. 

"Dead," Sam announces, reentering the small area. "Is she okay? Where's Dean?"

"She'll be fine. Dean is... Right there," Cas points to the pitch black corner, and Sam flips on his flashlight. Sure enough, Dean's hanging there. 

His face is pale, and disgusting tubes are dripping blood from him into a IV bag. Sam rips them right out, his hands finding Dean's face and holding it.

"Dean! Wake up, man. C'mon..." He undoes the chains at Dean's wrists; which aren't locked, just tied and hooked. "He's..." Sam shakes his brother a little more roughly. They can hear the girl behind them stirring, waking up and crying. "He's won't wake up."

Sam shoots a desperate glance Cas's direction.

"I don't think..." Cas begins, "I don't think he can."

"What?"

"Even when a djinn dies, it's power will still hold, so long as the victim doesn't want to leave it's dream realm. If a victim is happy where it is, it can give into the poison and die anyway."

"But last time Dean got out of this! He figured it out."

"Maybe he doesn't want to leave."

"Last time his wish was that Mom was still alive, and he wanted to stay... But he didn't," Sam shakes his head. "It doesn't make sense."

"His wish could have changed, or perhaps this djinn was stronger."

"No," Sam argues. He settles Dean against the wall, and leaves to comfort the girl coming out of her daze. "No it can't be any stronger.  _She_ made it out, Dean certainly can."

Cas has been frozen for the past couple minutes, not moving anything but his eyes. The weight in his pocket is growing heavier, and he knows soon they'll have to pack everyone into a car and possibly take Dean to the hospital with the girl. Before any of that, however, Cas  _needs_ to know what Dean is dreaming about. 

"I have the dream root, let me take it and go into his mind. I can extract Dean."

"Okay, just hurry. I'm going to bring her to the car."

"Alright."

"Hey, man, are you okay?" Sam asks out of nowhere, as he scoops the young woman into his arms. 

"Yes," Cas replies too quickly. 

"Don't scare him while you're in there."

"I'll try not too."

Sam starts shuffling away, as Cas calls out one last thing,

"What do you think his wish was?"

"I guess you'll find out," Is all Sam has to say back. 

With rocks in his stomach, Cas plucks a hair from Dean's head and stirs it into the water-root mixture in the jar he had stowed in his pocket. He tilts the concoction down his throat, coughing only a little. He slumps forward almost immediately, and soon he's collapsing right beside Dean, his head falling on the sleeping man's shoulder. 

—

CAS COMES TO on hard concrete, lying flat on his back. He sits up, regretting the choice as blood pounds through his head. He's behind a car, behind one of  _the bunker's_ cars. He knows it's a dream. He knows he's here to save Dean, but he hasn't the faintest why he's in their garage. Huge flood lights suddenly snap on overhead, all shadows dissapear, and Cas has to be careful to hide. 

He hears voices. Very familiar ones. He recognises one as Dean's, and the other... As his own? 

_A version of Cas is in Dean's dream world?_

The news is so shocking he practically has the wind knocked out of him. He leans back against a tire, a thousand thoughts spinning in his mind. Castiel is part of Dean's happy place. Dean  _wants_ him there. The hunter's deepest wish doesn't include exiling Cas to some far off place; it has him here  _with Dean._

Cas wonders if this is actually his own happy place.

He closes his eyes tightly, and let's himself go. He listens to the conversation between his twin and Dean – not prepared to hear what he does.

_"Why are you smiling so much, Dean?"_

_"What do you mean 'why'? I'm happy!"_

_"Well, yes –"_

Cas smiles softly at the cheer in Dean's tone, twisting his hands in his sweater pockets. 

_"Dude, stop doing that. I'm happy because we're going out. Together, on a date. You do know I've like never been on a date before, right?"_

_"What're you talking about? You've been with plenty of women in the past."_

_"Yeah, but not on dates. This is way different. This matters."_

Wait. He couldn't have heard that right... Could he have? Them...going on a date? The mere idea of it is inconceivable. There's no way; absolutely no possible way.  Castiel is sure this is a joke, a trick. Maybe the potion didn't work, he must be in his own head – not Dean's. Never in a thousand years would Dean want to be with Cas, at least not in  _that_ way. The djinn screwed up – he made Dean's dream a nightmare instead. 

Only... Dean isn't mad or freaking out. He's not fighting the other Cas. He's happy about the date? Happy about it being...with  _Cas??_

He hears the impala's doors open, and there's a pause in the other two men's conversation.

_"Hey, ya know what Cas?"_

_"What?"_

_"We did it, man. We're here."_

_"In the... Garage?"_

Dean laughs, and it makes Cas's heart wrench in his chest.

_"Ha, no. We're together. Us. Like... Like..."_

_"Like what?"_

_"Like in love with each other together."_

No. No. It can't be. Castiel can't believe a word he's hearing. It's too impossible. Maybe the whole thing is just some weird dream, not based on any wishes at all. But what does that matter? Dean is still there, and saying all these impossible things to another version of Cas. His heart is beating louder and faster now, he can barely breathe – he thinks maybe he's crying.

_"I love you."_

_"I know. You keep reminding me."_

_"Well, I couldn't say it before."_

He does love Dean, so very, very much. Hearing himself say it, and say it  _to Dean_ nonetheless, is surreal. What could have Dean possibly wished for?? Cas is so confused, his body gone numb.

_"You could have..."_

_"No, I don't think so."_

_"Well, at least now you know that... That I love you too."_

The rest of their words are drowned  out by a vacuum turning on, and by the sobs suddenly crashing through the hiding angel. It's a good thing the loud sucking sounds make his sniffles and weird throat sounds inaudible. He's lost it completely.

Even if there was any chance this could be real – that Dean could love him back – he can't be a part of that. 

Because someone like Dean makes Cas feel something he absolutely cannot feel.

He's not permitted that kind of euphoria in his life. 

Cas remembers someone once telling him that only fools fall in love. He slouches against the rubber of the car tire, the rim digging into his back and sending a cruel reminder that he can't just stay here, he has to wake Dean up. But how can he face the hunter now? After witnessing all this strangeness he can't begin to make sense of. He's submerged in a sea of confusion. Isn't love impossible? Hadn't that been established long ago? Lying there, listening to himself and Dean laughing over the vacuum cleaner, he realizes love is so much more than silly words or actions. It is all encompassing and unfathomable until experienced. It is darkness intertwined with light, good with evil. And all his time with Dean, has been just that. An unimaginable monster threatening the world, and the underlying hope they manage to spark up – sometimes catching fire and flaming up into large fluming messes...

Castiel knows his time is up, both in this dream world and the real one, it's time to go home.

He waits until he hears the other Cas walk away, then he gets up and sneaks over behind Dean. He can do this. 

"Holy shit, Cas!" Dean exclaims. Cas grimaces. 

A sort of terror takes over the Winchester's face, disbelief and fear wilting his smile, and Cas feels like crap. He knew Dean wouldn't be glad to see him. 

Dean must be seeing his dream for what it really is now; a nightmare. 

Cas falters, his gaze dropping to his shoes. 

Humans, weren't built to endure heartbreak. And neither, it seems, were angels.

—

Oh, of course it was too good to be true. Of course Dean can't really have this. Of course everything in Dean's life the past few days wasn't real. It's just his luck, isn't it? So fitting that he's happy, and then it's all ripped away from him. Not real. None of it. 

Nothing has changed.

He's still very much in love with Cas, and Castiel is very much not in love with him. He's such an idiot for thinking it could ever be true, that he could have any sort of ending that wasn't completely bad. He supposes that as long as Sam is okay, he'll be able to rest in peace... But he's not sure if that's enough anymore. 

He's fought and clawed his way through death, blood, and disasters; it just keeps going. The dark is bottomless trench that he is falling down; a rabbit hole filled with oddities and evils. Dean doesn't have the strength to climb back up and save himself, he thought that Cas would be the one holding onto him from now on – keeping him safe. Then again, hasn't Cas been doing that since the beginning? Since he raised Dean out of hell, and turned against the Angels to stop the apocalypse. 

_The moment Castiel laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!_

_Oh you mean the other Angel? The one in a dirty trenchcoat who's in love with you?_

_Castiel's loyalties are divided._

_He's not much of Angel anymore._

Castiel has always been there, for better or for worse. He's taken Dean as is from day one – no complaints. Cas gave up his place in Heaven, to have and to hold his own freedom, and to be with the brothers. From that day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health; Castiel had chosen to be here. But now, after this, he could leave.

Dean is staring at the man, rendered entirely speechless, and feeling paralyzed. He can't control his tongue to try and explain away his dream to Cas. He's certain the angel saw everything, _knows_ everything. That their relationship will never be the same, and Cas won't ever forget or forgive Dean for letting himself get swayed by the novelties and weakness of love.

At long last Dean remembers himself. He's in a garage, apparently in a dream, and unfortunately he has to wake up. He has to return to a world where his emotions are stuffed into an air-tight box.

"Cas?"

"Hello, Dean."

The hunter swallows, shifting nervously. He hasn't a clue what to do with his hands.

"Um..."

Saving him, Cas speaks up, "You're currently lying in the floor of the warehouse where the djinn captured you. There was only one other victim, a girl, and Sam is taking care of her. The creature is dead. I was... I volunteered to awaken you since you were not doing so yourself."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," Cas says limply.

Dean blinks, "What? Why?"

"For your dream. It must've been strange to... Be with me in that way."

"Buddy, hey, I can explain this. This... My wish it was... I –" Dean stutters, waving his hands around, and eventually just running his hands over his face and hair and sighing. He has no excuse. No lie he can tell. He's been caught red-handed in love with his best friend.

"You don't need to explain anything, Dean. The djinn created all of this, not you. I understand that you were just going along with it. That none of what I saw you actually want."

Not a word of that rings true, but Cas is spilling the words out flatly. No emotion. Dean can't decide whether Cas believes what he's saying, or not. The hunter just nods, wanting to be far away. He's just been given an out – Cas has made an opportunity for him to agree and say not any of this is what he wishes. That's not what he wants though. He wants to admit everything, he wants to pour his heart to his friend. He wants to make a love proclamation with some grand gesture of admiration. Dean can't bear the thought of returning to pretending like he's not in love with the angel, after all he's been through. 

"Cas... No, I – I –" He can't say it. God, he hates himself so much right now. He's ready to tell the truth, but still so very much not. He wants to curl up in a ball in cry. He wants this all to go away. He stares into Castiel's blue eyes, and realises Cas looks just about as miserable as Dean feels. 

"Can I... Do something, real quick? And then I'll come back, and I'll wake up," Dean's request in barely hearable, a lump in his throat making it difficult to speak.

"Sure," Cas agrees.

Dean lingers a moment longer, before hurrying to the bunker door, and running straight into the other Cas. 

The dream-Cas drops the picnic basket with an alarmed shout, "Dean! Jeez, watch out."

"Sorry, um...sorry."

Castiel turns to peer at him in concern, "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, no I'm fine," Dean croaks. 

"Dean, what's –"

The hunter cuts Cas off with kiss. It's rough, Dean's palm pushing Cas's head as close to his own as he can, his other hand finding their suspenders and curling around the leather. He shoves him against the wall, kissing hard and deep, he knows he'll never get to do this again. This is his last chance and he's going to take it. With every movement his chest aches a little more; in a few minutes he's going to lose everything he thought he had gained. He can already feel the happiness stripping away from him. Dean feels so vulnerable, he just wants to stay. Tears slip down his cheeks before he can stop them. Cas notices, and pulls back, his fingers cupping Dean's face and his thumbs wiping away the tears. 

"Dean, what's wrong? Please tell me."

Dean shakes his head over and over again, letting his forehead fall forward and bury in the angel's shoulder.

"Dean," Cas says with more conviction, trying to force Dean to look at him. 

"I love you, Cas."

"Dean, you're scaring me, why are you crying?"

"Please," Dean begs, not sure what even for. He squeezes his arms around Cas tighter, sniffling. "Please just say it back..."  _One last time,_ Dean doesn't add.

"I love you, Dean. I love you..." Cas gives in, just stroking Dean's head and rubbing his back. "Until death do us apart."

Dean wants to laugh at marriage vow reference, but he can't find it in him. 

_He wants to stay._

But he can't. Goddamnit, he can't stay. 

—

"I'm ready," Dean mumbles when he gets back to garage, finding the real Cas exactly where he left him.

"Okay."

There's some weird shuffling between them each, tension in the air as thick as gravy. 

"Well?" Cas says, shooting Dean a puzzled look. 

"Well, what? Aren't you gonna like zap us out or something?" Dean snaps. He's pissed at himself, not at Cas. 

Cas glares, "No. I can't just 'zap us out', you forget I'm not an Angel any more. The only way we're getting out of here, is if you let us."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?"

"It  _means_ we can't wake up until you want to." 

Oh. There's an uneasy silence, that Cas breaks with an unwelcome question several seconds later. 

"Why don't you want to leave?"

Dean releases A humongous sigh, and wanders over to a car. He leans against it's hood, focusing on the ceiling of the garage looming ten feet above. Cas follows him over, resting beside him. 

"Dean," Cas whispers, his voice very small and afraid, "What did you wish for?"

—

CAS ISN'T EXPECTING Dean to respond as quickly as he does.

"My wish was that you loved me back," Dean pauses, then continues. "Cas, I love you. And I know you can never love me back, and here – in this world – you did. You  _do,_ and I guess I just don't want to give that up. I want so badly to stay..." He turns his head to meet Cas's shocked stare. "I want so badly to stay here and live a life with you and Sammy that has a guaranteed happy ending, but I know I can't. I can't leave Sam back in the real world to watch me die because I'd rather live a dream. And even though I know none of this is real now... I still don't want to go back... I'm sorry."

Cas is frowning, too confused to speak. There has to be some mistake... He didn't mishear, Dean didn't stumble over the words; but still this can't be real. What if this a dream-Dean? What if... 

Even Cas can't come up with any plausible explanation besides that Dean's proclamation is true. 

"You..." He starts to repeat the hunter. "You...love me?"

Dean glances away. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do. I'm sorry never told you. I know I shouldn't feel this, I wish to hell I  _couldn't_ feel this. But I do... And I can't," He shrugs. "And I can't stop."

"I don't think..." Cas mumbles, biting his lip. Something here is off. "I don't think your wish was that I love you back."

"How would you know?"

"Well," Castiel swallows, standing up and stepping in front of Dean. He reaches a tentative hand out to the man's arm. Dean looks at him, both confused and curious. "Why would the djinn grant a wish....."

Cas takes a deep breath, sending a quick prayer to the God he's not sure even exists. 

"...that's already come true?"

—

DEAN WAKES with a jolt, gasping, and a cold sweat covering him.

"Dean! Hey man, hey!" His brother is suddenly right in front of him. "You alright?"

He groans, his whole body feels like it's been wrung out and hung up to dry. A steady warmth on his left arm calls his attention, and he makes out the silhouette of Cas leaning against him. Dean's heart skips a beat as a flood of memories rush through him.

_Cas might love him back._

That's what he said, right? Or at least that's what he meant. There's no other way to interpret the phrase, unless Castiel just straight-up lied. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ , have done that –  _right? It's true, right? Cas would never... No, no._

Sam's speaking to him, encouraging him to get up, but Dean's not listening. He's staring at Cas. He turns, shifting Cas's head into hands, and he whisperes, "Wake up, buddy. C'mon... Please..."

"Dean, he'll be okay. You're the blood-drained one," Sam reminds him. 

"Cas..."

Dean doesn't care. He is way past that; so he presses his forehead to the angel's, their noses pressing together. 

The younger brother watches the spectacle with an open mouth. It's an unexpected thing to happen, but not an unwelcome one. Something big must have gone down while his two friends were sleeping. 

"I meant it." A gruff voices says, the sound loud enough to echo a little in the room.

Dean pulls back, giving Cas space to breathe.

"What?"

"Dean, I meant it. Of course it's true," Cas shrinks away, he's readying himself for the hunter denying all that passed between them. He would wonder what the worse is that could happen...but he doesn't want to know the answer.

"Castiel you stupid angel," Dean grumbles, holding Cas close and hugging him.  _"What I said was true too."_

He's too weak to put up a fight and when the blue-eyes man pushes him off. 

"Let's go home."

"Sammy..." Dean glances over. "Help us up?"

Sam nods, assisting each of the guys in turn, them dusting the dirt off themselves. They stumble down the rickety metal stairs, Cas pulling up the rear. They've collected their weapons, mutely communicating that Sam would take the other victim to a hospital, while Dean and Cas headed back home in the impala. The elder Winchester is barely holding himself up, though still stubborn as hell about allowing Cas to drive the car back home.

"Since when can you drive a car, dude?" Dean complains grouchily.

"I know how to drive a car."

A stray memory passes through his mind as he asks, "Do you know how to button a shirt?"

"What?" Cas shoots him a look as he unlocks the impala's door.

Dean grins, a laugh sneaking up on him. He's a little light headed from the blood loss, making it harder to think straight. "Never mind, it's just –" He laughs again, arms resting on his car. "I think the dream-you tricked me."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, hell, I'm great."

Castiel halts short of getting in the driver's seat, "I don't understand, are you freaking out? Is this you freaking out about what happened?"

Dean laughs even harder, his stomach hurting as he bends over. Not only is he in a state of shock, he's also mindlessly happy. Because he gets it now. He gets _everything._ Everything from the staring to the 'profound bond' crap. He's been so far up his own ass convinced he couldn't have Cas, when the damn angel had been so obviously  _in love with him_ the whole freaking time. Dean tries to meet Cas's eyes, only to fall back from the car and begin laughing so hard not a sound escapes. He's crying tears of joy – and a little pain due to the pressure on his sides. 

"C'mere," He finally gasps. "C'mere Cas."

Cautiously the angel rounds the vehicle and stands before him, a concerned expression on his face.

"Cas," Dean pulls himself together enough to just smile and hold onto Cas's forearms. "Cas I was so stupid, oh my god. And you were so  _damn obvious,_ I was so blind."

"What –"

"Shut up, man. You know what I'm getting at here. You know," He gives him a hard gaze. "I think I've known all along how we feel about each other. I think maybe my wish was that I'd have enough bravery to admit it you."

"Dean, are you sure?"

"Fuck yeah, I'm sure. I'm more sure about this than I am about anything.  _I love you,_ Cas."

There's a pause in which the angel surveys him, a crinkle in his brow. It's long enough to make Dean second-guess everything. What if he was wrong? What if Cas had meant something else earlier? 

"I love you too."

The hunter let's out the breath he didn't know he was keeping in, and moves his hands up the other's arms to –

And then Cas is pressing his lips to Dean's without any direction at all. It's soft and gentle, like he's afraid Dean will back away. Cas breaks off much too soon, and the blissful moment ends. 

"Before I met you," Cas says quietly. "Before I saved you from hell, I had no one

to die for because I didn't think I  _could_ die. After I rescued you, and chose you and Sam time and time again over Heaven, I realised I could die. I knew then that I would die for you, either of you, really."

"Cas, what are you saying?" Dean cups a hand to the angel's face.

"Recently, while I've been human, I was thinking I could sacrifice myself somehow and die a 'heroes death'; a death to be proud of..." Dean shakes his head, frowning as Cas goes on. "But now...with you... Dean, I think I may have found something worth living for. Some _one_ worth living for."

Dean kisses Castiel again, both because he doesn't know what to say and because he needs to. The dream-Cas kissed differently than the real one, with more force and control, like he could keep Dean asleep just with the push of his lips. Besides, those kisses hadn't counted, if they weren't genuine, why even remember them? Dean has to make up for all the fake ones – all the ones he'd been wanting to give to Cas for so long and winded up giving to the wrong guy. His fingers fumble at Cas's chest, searching for something that isn't there. The suspenders. God, that part hadn't been made up, he really, really does want Cas to wear some. 

"Cas, how would you feel about wearing suspenders?"

Cas chuckles, which surprises Dean.

"If you would like me too, sure I'd wear some."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

—

They eventually are able to get in the impala and begin a drive home in the pitch black of the night. Lebanon is a pretty small town, so the night sky I quite the sight. Sometimes, you can even see the Milky Way if you're in the suburbs. Tonight is clear, even if in the day it it had been pouring rain. Cas makes a wrong turn at one point, and Dean doesn't say anything. He's happy to just relax with his angel, driving in circles, for hours. 

When the impala stops, and the engine shuts off, Dean sits up from his groggy half-sleep.

"Where are we?"

"On a road."

"We run outta gas or somethin'?"

"No," Cas deadpans.

Castiel swings open his door, hopping out of the car, and Dean follows after him. He gapes when realises Cas parked the car literally in the middle of the street, just asking for the impala and them both to get hit by some oncoming truck.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean demands.

Cas blatantly ignores him, suddenly yanking himself up onto the hood of the car and crawling up to the roof. 

"Care to join me?" He asks Dean as though this is all perfectly normal.

"Fine," Dean sighs – there's no point in arguing.

He climbs up next to Cas, whose legs are crossed, and Dean hangs his own off the side of the impala. Castiel is peering up at the stars, the thousands of glittering specks promising wishes to hundreds of hopeful children before they go to bed. 

"Have you ever wondered what happens to angels when they die?"

Dean's a taken aback by the question, but yes of course he's curious about the answer.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Most Angel's used to believe we became stars, our Graces preserved for an eternity. That way, even in death, we could watch over humanity. But when God dissapeared, many lost that faith and began to believe our deaths are meaningless, that they're as simple as a lightbulb going out."

Dean stops looking at the stars in favour of watching Cas.

"I'm human now. But I was an angel. And I'm more confused now than ever before about what life and death are, and what my purpose is. What  _anything's_ purpose is."

Cas turns his attention to Dean, his eyes shining as bright as the stars. The hunter pulls his legs up to the roof, scooting closer to Cas. The angel seems a bit lost, as if he doesn't know what else to say, or what conclusion to draw about his ponderings.

Dean clears his throat, snaking a hand over to Cas's and giving a gentle squeeze. Just enough of a touch to let them know he's here and is listening. It's new to hear Cas speak at such a length without it being an argument. He's glad for it, and Dean hopes it'll stick around.

Dean speaks then, surprising himself, "I'm not sure what I think about the road so far; whether we've traveled down a good path or a bad one. The  _then_ and the _now_ are so different, I think the very meaning of what's right and what's wrong has changed..." He trails off, locking Cas into a familiar stare. "But if there's one thing I'm sure of, Cas... I'm sure about you."

Cas smiles softly, "Yes. As I am about you."

"I love you," Dean reminds him.

"You know what I think?" Cas looks back at the sky. "I think that dreams can come true."

"What, you think that dreams are just realities in waiting? That they're just laying around until we have the courage to make them come true ourselves?"

"Yes."

"So then why do people make wishes?"

"Because they are afraid of what they can do on their own."

Dean presses into Cas's side, breathing in his warmth to counteract the freezing air blowing around them. 

"Do you think I was afraid, Cas?"

Dean can feel the angel's heart beating, the rise and fall of him as he breathes. 

"I know you were. And I was too. That's why I never said or did anything, I was afraid I wasn't good for you, and I could never be what you wanted. I'm not an Angel anymore, and I guess you could call me human, but I'm not very good at being one. I not enough to be either."

The wind howls, and the sky darkens as clouds start to roll in. They cover the moon, the light being replaced by a set of headlights from a car driving towards them in the far distance.

"You are enough for me," Dean tells Cas.

"And you, Dean Winchester, are _more_  than enough."

—

_THE END_

_—_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written and edited by me, any and all mistakes are my own. Lemme know if there's any major ones, and I'll be glad to fix them.
> 
> Stalk my tumblr @theimpossibleimpala if you feel so obliged.
> 
> Quick shout-out to deancasficreviews on tumblr for talking about this fic! Check them out to find other great stuff to read :)
> 
> Toodles. And huge thanks to everyone reading and leaving kudos!


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